


On Pointe

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Ballet AU, Friendship, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, References to Suicide, Steve vs Bucky, all of the feels, not a happy fic, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up in Russia at the Bolshoi ballet, the most promising duet partners of their class, Stepan and Yacob learn the price of greatness and how far they will go to defend each other. When Yacob disappears and Stepan loses everything, he makes a deal with the other side, hoping somewhere along the line to find out the truth about what happened to his friend. Little does he expect to find him, or the last request his friend will ever make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Pointe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).



They had always dreamed of being dancers, but the reality was far more gruelling than either of them had been prepared for. Their dream remained the same, their burning ambition the reason they forced themselves to rise so early and to practise till their muscles ached and strained, memorising movements and skipping meals to stay in shape, training in the gym and falling asleep listening to music, running through routines in their mind, but in the face of it all, dreams were the only thing which could keep them going at all. Bucky was good at those dreams, at stories he told in the dead of night, when Steve twitched beneath the sheets as his muscles exacted payment from the exertions of the day. 

He told Stepan of firebirds and lovers crossed in stars, he told him about how, when they were the Bolshoi's best duet pair, they would take the stage and the world by storm, leave all the Westerners astounded and obsessed by the graceful perfection of their performances. They would see the whole world, and not be imprisoned by the Iron Curtain the politicians imposed for their own protection. 

Stepan believed him, and he kept practising every day, working on staying slim and light so that Bucky could lift him with ease, training and toning his muscles to have the stamina for the long performances. He had to be the best. One day, they both would be.

He didn't know when the propositions had started. He had heard about them happening to other people of course, but he presumed that he wasn't worth the notice of the big oligarchs. Most of them seemed to prefer the girls anyway, but he fulfilled the same role... he was still taken aback when the chief clerk grabbed his arm in the corridor.

"I am sorry Stepan, but this request I cannot ignore... it is from the Politburo, even though I know that Yacob will be angry with me for passing it on, he has been so emphatic that you are not to be touched, and I understand it, but think what it would do for your career..."

He knew what it meant, he knew what the man who wanted him would desire and expect. He was scared, it would have been a lie to pretend otherwise, but he couldn't... he couldn't avoid it. Not forever. The best dancers had the best patrons, and they won those patrons by the use of their bodies, in every way imaginable. If he and Yacob were going to be the best, then he would pay the price. He tried not to think about what the clerk had said about Yacob telling him to keep Stepan safe. 

He followed the orders he was given, hoping that Bucky would be able to forgive him for giving his first away like this to somebody else, but there wasn't time to talk about it, and he didn't want to push when they had got no further than a few kisses. He didn't want to have to explain why he had chosen to do it so soon. He didn't want Bucky to know.

It had been hard though, harder than he could have imagined, and more painful. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was a man, or because he was so small, but the one who had summoned him didn't seem to have taken much care and the next morning, Stepan could hardly walk. He felt sick at the thought of how this would throw off his training schedule.

Yacob met him at the gate to the school with a grim face and escorted him inside without a word, helping him clean up and dosing him with painkillers, promising to make excuses to their teachers for Stepan's absence.

"Why did you stop the clerk telling me I was wanted? We could have been famous by now!" It was easy to take his anger out on his friend when his whole body ached with a foreign pain and a different exertion.

"I promised I'd protect you Stepan. You deserved better."

"I can take care of myself." he snapped back, turning away.

There was a long pause.

"Of course. I'll see you at dinner." Yacob turned away and left for class.

He never came back.

Stepan looked for him everywhere, searching and calling, crying, apologising frantically, but there was no sign. It was in pity that the clerk finally told him that Yacob had been taken away by the secret police in a black car. 

There were no more summonses to anyone's bed, but without his partner Stepan lost his role, lost the future they had worked so hard to build. He had nothing, and left the school in disgrace, wandering without hope for a future.

When the men came in their uniforms and the iron grip of state loosened enough to call them guests, he was afraid at first, in as much as he remembered how to feel fear. He was small and almost pretty, even if time had removed the grace of a former ballet dancer. One of them had invited him to join them, offered him a chance, and he had taken it, not caring whether it was a lie which would end with his throat slit in a back alley, or a real opportunity to escape from here. 

His whole life had finally changed, they had transformed his body, given him health and muscle, strength, everything he had dreamed of and worked for although he no longer had the slim physique of a dancer. He had been metamorphosed like a caterpillar to a butterfly, from a scrawny weakling to a super soldier.

He had taken every mission to do with Russia and the secret police that he had been offered, hoping he would find Bucky somewhere. Eventually they were set on the trail of a sniper, going from village to village in rural backwoods, following rumours. Eventually it was confirmed that he was in a local bar, and Steve, as he was now known, walked in alone. 

There was a figure hunched by the bar, leaning on it for support, an arm of dull gunmetal hanging limply from his side, his gun cast away on a stool and a bottle of moonshine vodka in front of him.

"I knew you'd come." He said, eventually, "they told me you were coming, and I was so glad that it was finally all over."

The figure looked up and Steve couldn't help but gasp at that ruined face, the eyes twisted and broken from what they had been before, coldness where there had once been warmth.

"And so you see what they made me. It was a price I do not regret paying. I promised I would protect you, little bird. I see you had your rebirth and rose from the ashes. I am glad. Truly. I hope they kept the promise they made me, but it is too late to change it now."

"B-...Bucky..." The figure looked quizzical for a moment, then nodded slowly, almost smiling.

"That was it, Bucky. That was what you used to call me."

"What happened to you?"

"They hurt you. They tried to take you from me. So I made them a deal. I would serve them, I would submit to their experimentation and be the perfect soldier. The ballet training, the strength... I was perfectly qualified, so they accepted me into the program. And for that, they had to leave you alone. I am sorry it took the dancing from you, but I couldn't see you used like that. You deserved better. It was corrupt, depraved, there was no art there, only pain."

"You should have told me. You should have talked to me, I should have had a choice."

"You were always prepared to sacrifice yourself too easily, Stepan." This time the sigh was heavy with the weight of years, "It was the turn of someone else to make the sacrifice play."

He shifted from where he was leant at last, half limping towards the gun.

Steve snatched out his shield instinctively, but Bucky offered him the butt of the rifle with tired eyes. 

"I've been waiting for you, Stepan. You're the only one who can do this for me. I chose to pay the price but I didn't know what price I was paying. I promised I would protect you, and I did my best to save you. Now all I ask is that you return the favour."


End file.
